Fanfic: The Council Era, Part One: The First Set
This will be edited until completion. Please don't alter it or delete it due to the incomplete status. There are a total of five major arcs within The Council Era. This is the first entry in the series' debut arc, which is entitled, "Lines Are Drawn." Chapter 1, The Preceding Arguments His prediction that the Council's vast public chamber would not survive the current tensions was, without any sort of denial being plausible, accurate. The Councilors had not even begun to court their audience, but bitter and heated arguments had already erupted amongst the attending civilians, severing any potential for the Council to provide a resolution today. He patiently observed from the stage's sidelines as the two representatives, Roran Freid of the salarians and Telia Millangada of the asari, swiftly strode past him to the center stage, commanding their public's attention with every step, with their own particular brand of bloated ego. Though his boss' vision and strategy was never obscured by it, Roran's self-importance yearned for new boundaries to cross. The emperor of the manaban people, after years of strenuous attempts at coercion, had finally agreed to directly meet with the Council and address the galactic public. It had been nearly a decade since his people was introduced to the galactic community, but he had stubbornly insisted that his kind had no need to sacrifice their absolute independence for the sake of diplomacy with, "those that are not blessed." That the monarch had strong conviction in the teachings of their world's sole religion there could be no doubt. It had remained unclear exactly how far the depths of his devoutness reached; tonight would unveil the approach that the emperor would have in regards to the threat poised by the rachni, and in regards to cooperation with the other races. The refugees of the manaba had been able to leech off of the Citadel for far too long for any sort of justification for not contributing to the war effort aside from protecting their people's own worlds. Roran's commandment of, "Silence!" echoed through the instantaneously noiseless, cavernous chambers. The boisterous crowd before him had been tamed at once, his years of stern control over the populace providing hefty weight to his words. "In mere moments from now, the first diplomatic contact with the Manaban Emperor shall be made in our station's history. I understand that some of you have grown restless, resentful towards the manaba for occupying our wards whilst their leader provides nothing in return. But that will all change tonight. Our military need not rely on our wild card as much as we had feared." From the opposite end of the chamber, a gruff voice vociferously interjected Roran's speech, as a titanic krogan adorned in fresh battle armor marched through the aisles, followed by an advisor on his heels and a pair of guards behind him. "Is that all we are to you, a mere wild card? A weapon to be utilized against the rachni that will hopefully ''not backfire in the process?" The krogan gestured to the citizens that surrounded him, gaping in awe at his arrival. "My people are without argument far more significant than the majority of the races on this station. The two most powerful species are, of course, the salarians and the asari. But the asari are the only exception to what I shall say; even the brilliant salarians expire after mere decades. A single krogan, in their own, solitary lifespan, can accomplish more than a dozen salarians could together. Every single one of us is entitled to up to a thousand years of achievement and glory. That renders all of the other species irrelevant by comparison, as they are utterly overshadowed by what a truly great krogan can amount to." The Asari Councilor pressed two of her left hand's fingers to her temple, in frustration; she sighed, and then responded to the overlord's outburst, attempting to preserve her calm appearance in the process. "My counterpart had no intention of diminishing the weight that your people carry, Overlord. Without the soldiers that you have already provided, the manaba's few remaining planets would have been lost. To say the least, you have been far more supportive of the Council than the Manaban Emperor. He was merely addressing the fact that your people's presence in the Citadel's military is considered a security risk by some of the public." Your actions and reactions are difficult to predict; that you cannot deny, Overlord. What just happened is a perfect example; for the previous several weeks, you've been quite cooperative, with the Manaban Emperor's impending arrival possibly being attributable to your behavior. And now, one offhand remark by the Salarian Councilor leads to this tirade. Do you think your kind deserve better representation, Overlord? Should you be present at each of our meetings, from now on?" Chapter 2, The Manaban Debut The overlord stomped further towards the councilors, before briefly pausing to give the command to his guards to take seats for themselves. He then persisted towards Telia and Roran, intently listening to his advisor as he whispered in the overlord's ear. Upon reaching the stairs that led up the stage, the krogan leader bowed his head slightly and calmly stated, "It would be an honor for my advisor and I to be present at all forthcoming public meetings. The salarian can pretend as much as he desires to, but I am not merely an ambassador. After all, without my soldiers' presence, how many would have been lost at Omicron, Councilor? How many people's lives, would you estimate, were salvaged due to our operation?" Offended at the overlord's insinuations, Roran exclaimed, "Far too many to calculate, Kurvok. Now, if you don't mind, please sit down and do not disrupt us. If you are to be the first non-Council representative to attend a public meeting and provide your opinion as part of the consensus, then you must follow the regulations that Telia and I, as well as my own advisor Lieph do," he said whilst briefly gesturing to the silent observer that remained off to the side. "But be aware that you do not, under any circumstances, possess a councilor's authority over the Citadel, or that you have obtained the weight that are carried by the opinions of a councilor. Your opinions will only hold relevance to the public, not to us or our decisions." Barely containing his rage, the overlord gritted his sharp teeth for a moment, glanced to the face of his advisor, then responded, "We will. .reluctantly accept these conditions." Kurvok marched up the stage and seized an empty hovering chair that lied near Tyrin, then carried it over and activated it, at last sitting down to the right of Telia. His face tightened in frustration at the heavy leash that the Council had fastened upon his neck. Tyrin pondered the events that had just unfolded in front of him, curious in regards to what had pushed the councilors' frustrations to the brink and led to them actually allowing such a brute to attend as an ambassador. Unfortunately, it was his duty to only aid Roran in refining his own judgements, not to give his personal feelings on a matter. Questioning their sense of judgement would only produce aggression between himself and his superior, that which he sought to avoid above all in this position. He could not, not even in the slightest manner, trust Kurvok to persist in favor of what was best for the galaxy. Their people were selfish brutes that had not ascended enough on an evolutionary scale to justify the initial granting of space travel to them. They truly were merely a catalyst to be sparingly utilized against the rachni with the hope that they can be kept on their leash. He pulled a mobile communication device from his suit; he swiftly typed a message to several of his willing friends, asking for the overlord to be tracked and listened in on, whilst witnessing the continuation of the councilor's discussion. From behind the three hovering chairs, that carried three of the most influential people in the galaxy, they emerged; they were a duo of manaban warriors of the finest class, the Holy Paladins that from birth until death were only meant to protect the lives of their emperor and religious leaders, designated as such by the gold-inscribed ceremonial blades that were adorned on their backs. The blades' inscription read, "Born to serve the truly greatest amongst kings and priests, giving our lives in their names will grant us the purest form of salvation by our gods; we shall stave the Void with our tempered blades, and may our strikes pierce the hearts of the corrupt." These two knelt behind the councilors and the overlord, who were rotating their seats to witness the Manaban Emperor, bearing the traditional monarchial golden armor of his people, marching towards them. The emperor stood before the Council, the galactic public, and by extension all of the world leaders, remaining utterly silent until the last whispers in the audience were snuffed out. "Twelve thousand warriors, hailing from the greatest military in galactic history, are being transferred into the Citadel's forces as we speak, Councilors. However, they are not to be controlled by your volition; the manaba serve their own empire only, without exception. They will only mobilize on my command; my command will only be given if an operation against Ragnora is launched immediately." Roran sharply interjected, "Ragnora is an impenetrable fortress, an assault on it in the current state of our military would be suicide, despite our recently acquired krogan, dezban, and now manaban soldiers." Derimakshan acknowledged Roran's statement with a brief gesture in his direction and the outraged response of, "You have no faith, salarian! Even with redeemed manaban soldiers in your army, warriors that have been granted a blessing by ''the gods themselves, you deny my people the right to surmount the rachni and reclaim our world in the name of our glorious empire. Clearly you failed to recognize the conditions that you would be bound to when you proposed an alliance with the manaba. My soldiers shall not leave their barracks on this station until they are informed that they will be shipped to Ragnora. And soon enough, they will grow anxious; you cannot waste the greatest fighters in the galaxy in such a manner. In fact, you do not just offend my loyal army, you offend me. I was willing to regard this station and the species that found it as more significant than the mere particles of dust that they are, for the sake of my people's desire to return home. That you ''would us this is a grievous offense, and if you do not reconsider within the next several days, I will return with the rest of my wondrous military and this station will ''burn!" Chapter 3, Compromise and Conspiracy Kurvok heaved himself out of his seat and stomped towards the emperor, in the process bellowing, "Though I cannot speak for the Councilors, I will respond to this foolishness, as is my right. That you would dare to threaten those that have provided your kind with a staggering amount of charity, without any form of compensation might I add, while everyone in the galaxy could be consumed by a massive swarm of bugs. . It is staggering. Do you have no sense of gratefulness for that which has been given to you?" Derimakshan scoffed heartily, then bore an arrogant sneer on his face. He replied, "One of these simpletons is questioning my judgment? There is no reason for me to justify my choices to a beast that could not even leave its own planet without having its hand held by several marginally more intelligent races." The monarch strutted off of the stage, tailed by his guards. The overlord's sense of tolerance had been ravaged by the emperor's taunt; as it withered away, his frustration reached its zenith and he smashed his fist against the sturdy chamber wall, leaving behind a minor dent. He could feel the Council's tight chains tugging at his rough flesh; their demands for a retainment of serenity in the chambers wore down his defenses until he finally once again embraced the self-control that Marr had encouraged. He turned back to the front of the room and questioningly glared at Telia, stating, "Surely you two will not turn a blind eye to that pompous bastard's blatant threats and volunteer the dedicated soldiers of every species for the manaba's suicide mission. The emperor's failure to comply with even our most modest requests shows that he is not fit to be an ally of the Council. He needs to be punished and deposed for his uncooperative behavior. We could easily obtain a more sensible leader for the manaba. And if he puts up a fight, well he can count on our proud soldiers to engage his military. Who is with me?" He looked out at the rows of Citadel residents, salarians, asari, volus, batarians, quarians, elcor and hanar alike met his gaze. A scant few were even aroused by his call to action, but most simply remained respectful of the Council's wishes, silent but attentive. Telia gently responded, "Do you have a proposal for any other alternative courses of action? Of course you do not. We have no other options, Overlord. It is necessary for the Council to be flexible when dealing with such leaders. You and your kind may be unpredictable, but he is a madman. He would waste his entire military in an attempt to obliterate the Citadel if we were deemed a threat. We cannot take such a risk by assuming that he would not. The combat with the manaba that would be involved would be far too costly to even be considered." She called for the crowd to disperse, stating that the next public meeting would remain as scheduled for two weeks from that day, despite the heightened tension. Tyrin instinctively paced towards the Councilors, inquiring about whether they required his attendance at an urgently necessary private Council meeting. Roran dismissed such an inquisition, but Telia rebuffed him, saying that Tyrin's presence should be of his own decision. The three retreated to their secluded chamber at the apex of the Council tower. Determination seeping through her veins, Telia briefly glanced out of a window before addressing her counterpart and his advisor. "Judging by the fact that Kurvok was the only one to object to my statements, I must assume that the three of us have reached an unanimous agreement, that an operation that targets Ragnora must be launched." Tyrin coldly met her gaze and remarked, "If we do not make an attempt to appease the tyrant, several thousand civilians could be lost before every one of those rabid zealots are exterminated. Collateral of that magnitude is inexcusable. However, I would like to propose a temporary addendum to our military's policy, while this operation proceeds. We should not allow any new non-manaban recruits or any inactive soldiers in our reserves to be sent on this mission. We should not be willing to sacrifice any soldiers that are not already on course for Ragnora due to their position, to preserve as much of our military as possible." Roran stepped toward and stubbornly uttered, "Every ''soldier can be sacrificed, Lieph. That was the duty that they enlisted for. Why would you suggest such a pointless limit of the amount of soldiers that can be assigned to the Ragnora Assault? Do I detect an ulterior motive in your proposal? I hope not, as our roles dictate that victory in this war for our survival is to be prioritized above our personal gain, without exception." Just loudly enough to be overheard, Telia muttered, "Hypocrite," but Roran ignored her and persisted to grill his assistant. Telia interrupted again, however, saying, "Whether Tyrin was motivated by more than merely practicality is irrelevant. It is our military tacticians' duty to only expend the necessary amount of lives and no more. It does not matter if you resist, as I will push this amendment through myself. I will bring the Ragnora operation's launch to a grinding halt until a resolution is reached, Roran. And we both know what might happen if we keep that ticking time bomb, that bears the title of emperor, waiting. ." '''Chapter Four, The Guns of Youth' A compact and sturdy Citadel Transit rocket accelerated through the Presidium's lanes of traffic with its cargo, the devoted Tyrin Lieph. With his and Telia's successfully pushed-through amendment to military policy, he had hopefully snared the boy and prevented his departure from the station. Foran had far too little time in his lifespan to suicidally engage those that had torn his father's father and his grandfather's father's lives away. His clan had been one of the innumerable number of families that, after eight decades of war, had been irreparably and terribly scarred. The plague that had forsaken the Lieph family line could not be allowed to continually flourish. Those harsh words, that had been uttered at the last birth-anniversary that had occurred previous to the boy's enlistment, would be inscribed on the tablet that was the aging father's mind forever. Tyrin defiantly turned his head away as the computer screen dimly flickered to life, then the young man's face was assembled by the screen's pixels. He calmly stated, "I just wanted to get away from training for a few moments to greet you, father. Please, could we not set anger aside to recognize the inclusion of another year to your age?" Tyrin snapped back, "Why does it matter? You and I will both be dead within the next few years anyway!" Foran's forehead wrinkled in frustration; he declared in response, "You could never understand the calling to bear arms in defense of others, you've just been a privileged politician for your entire life." Category:Chapters